


I Need You

by imbeccacile



Category: Milo Murphy's Law
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 04:52:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11798796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imbeccacile/pseuds/imbeccacile
Summary: Cavendish and Dakota appear at Milo's house one day, asking for his help. The future is in danger again, and it's up to them to stop whatever it is affecting the timeline.





	I Need You

**Author's Note:**

> my take on the whole "one Pistachion survived" thing? It's a bit of a jumble but I hope you enjoy anyway :)

Milo yawned and pushed up his eye mask as he sat up slowly. Saturday morning...and his bookshelf had completely toppled onto the ground. 

After screwing it back onto the wall and placing all the books back, he got dressed and shrugged on his backpack, heading down the stairs, where he almost tripped over Diogee. 

“Good boy, Diogee,” he laughed, bending down to give the dog some belly rubs before continuing down the stairs. At least he was home!

Assuming his parents to be at work, and having seen Sara’s door still closed, he headed toward the kitchen to get himself some breakfast. He hummed a little as he searched through the cabinets. Pulling out a box of cereal, he bent down to get a bowl when the doorbell rang. 

He had always been told not to answer the door if his parents weren’t home, but he found himself inching closer anyway. And about a foot from the door, he heard muffled familiar voices. He smiled and threw the door open, doorknob coming off with it.

“Oh, oops. I'll have to repair that later,” he noted, mostly to himself, placing it down on the floor beside the doorstep. “Hey, guys! It's nice to see you again.”

Cavendish and Dakota stood there, looking a bit frazzled. Cavendish’s hat was lopsided. “Hey, kid,” Dakota exclaimed with a grin. 

“Hello, my dear boy,” Cavendish greeted, a small smile forming on his lips. “It is very nice to see you again,” he agreed, “however, we have something to ask of you.”

Milo’s gaze shifted between the two of them a few times, perhaps a little confused, but happy to be thought of nonetheless. “Sure, anything for you, guys! What is it?” The time-travelers exchanged a look, then sighed, looking back at him. 

“It's probably best if we explain everything in the car.”

***  
A few minutes later, Milo was strapped into the backseat of a dingy, dark green 80s-esque car. He wasn't sure what model it was, but he had a feeling this was the new time car, considering Cavendish and Dakota had stolen the limo from those other two agents. He reminded himself that Cavendish didn't like the word stole; he used the word borrowed.

But Milo kind of liked it. It was tiny and cramped, but it was cozier than the limo. He especially felt better that he had his backpack this time, and he trusted the two men in the front.

“So, where are we going?” he asked curiously, staring out the window as he saw a few clocks drift by. “Or, should I say, when?”

“1977. Something has...happened, and we believe it may be our doing.” Cavendish grimaced from behind the wheel, and Milo’s confusion had only grown. 

“What do you mean?”

Dakota glanced at his partner, then looked back at the boy. “We were sent to the 50s, to try and protect some of the pistachios of that time period, and…” he trailed off, then sighed. “Well? Turns out one of those nutjobbers survived. Somehow.”

Milo felt his eyes go wide. “A Pistachion? It survived? How? King Pistachion is dead!”

“We don't know, my boy. We were sent to investigate, but turns out this Pistachion knows how to travel. Mr. Block tracked him and found activity in 1977.” 

Milo’s head was spinning. How had one survived? He hoped it was only one, anyway. Though none of this made sense, he did have a question they had to be able to answer, and it was honestly the most pressing one.

“Not that I don't appreciate you guys thinking of me, but…” he hesitated a moment, looking out the window. “Why did you take me with you?”

The two older men exchanged a look, and Milo wasn't sure what exactly it was. Guilt? Sadness? Dakota looked back, eyes behind glasses nothing but anxiety.

“Because, kid. The nutjobber’s going after your dad.”

***  
For the rest of the ride, Milo was unable to sit still. How had a Pistachion survived? Why was it in 1977 to go after his dad? And what did it need him for? His mind was still buzzing even when they ended up in front of an old-looking, cozy house. Cavendish parked the car and ushered the other two out. 

“Quietly, now. We have no idea where it might be. It's possible it has already been here,” he said urgently, pointing at a window near the door. It was open.

Dakota glanced at his partner, then tiptoed with surprising silence toward the window. He crouched beneath it, then slowly peeked over the windowsill, a moment later crouching back down. Looking back at Cavendish and Milo, who were watching curiously, he gestured for them to join him. They exchanged a look and walked over, crouching beside him.

“I don’t see it in there. Nothing’s ruined, so I’m guessing it’s gone to your dad’s school,” he explained, adjusting his sunglasses.  
“Then...why is the window open?” Milo asked next, pointing up at it.

“Your grandma’s making pie. Apparently. I’d take us some to go, but it’s too hot to touch, let alone eat.” He shrugged, standing to lead the way back to the time car. Milo laughed, and Cavendish rolled his eyes as they followed close behind.

“To the elementary school, I suppose,” Cavendish announced once they were back in their seats. Milo hugged his backpack to his chest as they drove, unable to stop thinking about his father. What if he wasn’t okay? What would happen in the future if something happened to his dad, now?

Dakota seemed to sense Milo’s unease, and turned around in his seat to ruffle the boy’s hair. “Don’t worry, kid, your Pop’s gonna be fine.” Milo found himself smiling despite himself, nodding. He didn’t know why, but the gesture was oddly very comforting.

“Thanks, Dakota,” he replied, regaining some of his usual optimism as Cavendish parked in front of the busy school building. “Hey, this is where I went to elementary school!” he exclaimed, pointing out the window. “Looks newer than what I remember. Guess that makes sense.”

Some kids played outside on a shiny, colorful playground, screaming and laughing. A handful of teachers stood outside, looking like they wanted to be anywhere but there.

As they stepped out of the car again, Milo began scanning the playground. It would be so weird to see his dad as a kid. He was curious as to what he would look like. Would he look completely different?

“How are we going to find your dad in this crowd?” Cavendish wondered aloud, and as if it were on cue, a tree fell and crushed part of the fence around the school. A faraway “Oopsie!” could be heard as a few figures ran to the tree.

“I’m gonna guess we should check over there,” Dakota said, voice dripping with sarcasm as he looked at Cavendish. The Brit huffed frustratedly as Milo grinned, and the three of them walked toward the playground. “Hey, what’s your dad’s name, anyway?”

“Martin,” Milo replied, squinting as they got closer. A little boy stood by the tree, looking determined as he moved some of the branches that had broken off. He was at least a foot shorter than Milo was, though his hair was the same color and almost the same style; just a bit shorter. He wore a blue polo shirt, tiny red tie, and white pants. Martin glanced up as they approached, eyes wide and innocent.

“Hey there, kid,” Dakota greeted, Milo watching wordlessly. It was so weird to see his dad like this. He...looked so much like him.

“Are you all right, chap?” Cavendish asked next, raising an eyebrow. The boy nodded.

“Yeah! This sort of thing happens to me all the time. My daddy says it’s Murphy’s Law. Y’know, ‘what can go wrong will go wrong’,” Martin explained, looking proud of himself, then faltered a moment. “I don’t really get it, though.”

“We understand. It’s hard to get,” Milo replied, finally finding his voice, grinning a little. He couldn’t help it. It was so weird to see his father so young. It was undoubtedly him, though, and he was kinda cute. 

“Hey!” One of the teachers was jogging toward them, a stern look on her face. “You can’t be here! Who are you people?” She asked, stopping in between them with her hands on her hips. Her dark hair was tied up into a tight bun, she had glasses on a chain, and a dark pink suit dress. Milo found it odd to see someone dressed this way, but decided against saying it aloud.

“Well-” Cavendish started, but was cut off abruptly when the teacher began screaming. She was pointing behind them, seemingly unable to make coherent sentences. The four of them glanced over their shoulders. “There it is,” he exclaimed, wincing. The teacher ran off, shepherding other children inside. 

The Pistachion roared as it moved closer, sending bushes and playground equipment flying. It was even bigger than the king had been, and the sight made both Milo and Martin shudder. He had really hoped he wouldn’t ever have to see another one of these again.

It was looking for something. Or someone. “C’mon, boys, quickly!” Cavendish ushered them toward the fallen tree, hiding behind its leaves. “It must realize that both of you are here,” he whispered as a tree branch fell next to them. “I have no idea what it might want with you two, but we have to defeat it quickly. We do not need it, ah...reproducing.” Martin winced as it roared again, fear plain in his wide eyes.

“What is that thing?” he squeaked, hiding behind Milo. 

“It’s a Pistachion,” he replied, watching as it slowly got closer. “A pistachio monster. But don’t worry; we’re gonna protect you.” Without taking his eyes off of it, Milo slipped his backpack off of his shoulders and began digging through it. Producing a pair of hedge clippers, he handed them off to Dakota, then gave Cavendish the slingshot he and Dakota had used last time. “Be creative,” he replied to the confused look the other gave him. He continued digging around in his bag, even when the Pistachion spotted them.

It roared and advanced closer. It was almost the size of the school, and as it reached its hand to grab Martin, Dakota clipped off some of its branches. It yelled in pain and drew its hand back, but it had only made it angrier. Milo produced a bowling ball from his bag and handed it to Cavendish to use with the slingshot, then continued rifling through.  
“Get behind me, chap, this won’t be pretty!” Cavendish called, and Martin scrambled to crouch behind him, shaking with fear. The Brit had piled leaves, sharp sticks, and the bowling ball into the catapult. Closing one eye, he aimed, and released. 

The leaves and branches scattered, but the ball hit the monster right in the face, sending it falling backward. “Cheerio!” Cavendish cheered, pumping a fist into the air.

“Nice job!” Milo exclaimed, grinning as the two men shared a high five. Dakota hopped over the tree and ran over to the fallen Pistachion, starting to clip at its arms. Unable to find much else, he took another, bigger pair of hedge clippers from his bag and started toward the monster. But he didn’t get much closer, because it wasn’t liking being clipped at. It sat up abruptly, hitting Dakota with its hand, sending him flying into the side of the school building, where he fell to the ground limply.

“Dakota!” Milo and Cavendish cried simultaneously. The Brit scowled and took the hedge clippers from Milo, looking the angriest the boy had ever seen. And that was saying something. “I’m sorry, my boy, but I’ve had enough!” And he was sprinting across the playground with surprising speed. 

Milo, concerned for Dakota and Cavendish’s new spout of adrenaline, he looked around desperately for something else to use. He crouched down, letting his father climb onto his back, then grinned a little. “Perfect.”

A teenage boy, who had been working on the school lawn with his weed wacker, finally noticed the large monster that was struggling to sit up, what with Cavendish attacking it with the hedge clippers and spouting British insults that Milo didn’t understand. The teenager dropped the weed wacker in surprise, and ran off, leaving the weed wacker on. Adjusting his hold on Martin, he jogged over and picked it up, turning around with a grin. “Okay, Da-...Er, Martin...Stay behind the tree, all right? I’ll be right back.” Letting the boy off of his back, he sprinted across the playground to where Cavendish was.

The other was holding pretty well on his own, but Milo could tell he was starting to get tired. He was starting to slouch a little, and worry was plain on his face now. The Pistachion had gotten to its feet again, despite Cavendish’s efforts to cut at its ankles. Seeing Milo coming toward them, he crouched beside Dakota, checking his pulse, looking very concerned. It roared again, but it seemed to be more in anger than in pain. It reached down and picked Cavendish up in its massive hand, crushing the hedge trimmers in the process, snarling.

“Hey, you over grown light snack!” Milo shouted, starting the weed wacker up again. The Pistachion dropped Cavendish and turned its attention to Milo, roaring. Cavendish fell, collapsing on the ground in a pained heap. It took all the boy had not to run to him, to see if he was all right. 

No. He had to protect his father. He walked forward, dodging a branch as it hit the ground beside him. Hopping up onto it, he ran until he reached the Pistachion’s shoulder, cutting off one of its arms. But as it yelled in pain and was about to grab him, both of them noticed a figure on the ground.

Martin stood there, shaking a little but looking determined. “Y-You’re not allowed to hurt anyone else!” The little boy demanded, pointing up at the monster. It looked confused for a moment, and Milo took that opportunity to slide down its other arm and onto the ground. Dropping the weed wacker, he stood beside Martin, waiting. Something was bound to happen, with both of them together...

As if on cue, a rafter from the roof fell, hitting the Pistachion right on its head, making it collapse to the ground. After a moment or two, it disappeared in a puff of smoke. Milo, breathing hard, mustered a smile to the small boy standing beside him. “You were very brave. You can go on back to class now.” Martin grinned, nodded, and ran off, back inside.

Glancing uneasily at the spot where the Pistachion was, Milo then sprinted over to where his friends were, crouching between them. Cavendish was lying on his side, hand bent at an odd angle. Milo knew what that meant; the other had broken it by landing on it. Luckily, that was the only thing that seemed to be broken, but Cavendish was unconscious. He had probably hit his head, too.

And Dakota...was lying sprawled out near the wall. Nothing looked broken from what Milo could see, but his sunglasses had shattered in two and his unconscious face was twisted into slight pain.

Milo didn’t know what to do. He was usually the one who got hurt. Not his friends. What if they wouldn’t be okay? What if it was all his fault…? 

He swallowed those thoughts down, crawling over to Dakota, hesitantly placing a hand on his arm. “Dakota,” he whispered,”c’mon, you gotta get up now. We have to go.” The other man didn’t stir. Milo found himself panicking. “Co...Come on, you can do it. It’s me, Milo. I need you.” Still, nothing. The boy turned and crawled over to Cavendish. “Cavendish! Wake up!” He shouted, shaking the older man’s shoulder. Not even a movement.

He blinked a few times, backing away. He sat, feeling hopeless, unable to not blame himself. If he had seen the weed wacker first, or thought to have Martin with him sooner, then maybe they wouldn’t be so hurt…

And all of a sudden, warm tears were streaming down his cheeks. He didn’t know what he could do. What he would do if they didn’t wake up. He was in 1977, alone and afraid, and his friends were seriously hurt. He hugged his backpack close to his chest, unable to stop the bad thoughts from intruding his brain.   
“Please,” he whispered one more time. Burying his face in his backpack, his shoulders shook with sobs. Which is why he almost missed the small groan coming from Dakota. Almost.

Lifting his head, eyes wide, he looked over at the other man, who was obviously struggling to regain consciousness. “C’mon, Dakota!” Milo crawled over to him, holding his breath as he watched.

It took a few moments, but finally Dakota opened his eyes. “Ugh, my head,” he muttered, squinting up at Milo. “Oof!” The boy had thrown his arms around his chest, unable to convey his relief. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay. Sorry about your glasses.” His voice was muffled, since he talked into Dakota’s chest, but the other man simply chuckled in response, patting his back.

“It’s okay, Murphy. Mind helping me up?” Milo stood then, holding his hand out. Dakota took it and very slowly got to his feet, the two halves of his sunglasses falling into his open palm. Looking up, Dakota grinned at Milo’s shocked and awed expression. His left eye was blue, and his right was brown. He winked, but the moment didn’t last long. Dakota had caught Cavendish out of the corner of his eye, and in seconds both of them were by his side.

“His hand’s broken, and I think he hit his head on the way down, but he should be okay,” Milo offered quietly upon seeing Dakota’s worried expression. He glanced at him, nodded, then returned his gaze to his partner.

“C’mon, old man. Time to get up,” he exclaimed, sitting back on his heels. “I know you’re a buzzkill sometimes, Cavendish, but we gotta go. Milo needs you.” The boy raised his eyebrow at him, and he rolled his eyes. “Fine, I need you too. Come on, Balthy.” It took a moment, but it seemed to work. Cavendish moaned and opened his eyes, immediately widening upon meeting Dakota’s. He never took off his sunglasses. “Took you long enough, man. Time to go.” Dakota offered his hand, and he pulled him up slowly, the Brit wincing a little.

“Well, that was...eventful,” he announced after a moment.

“Ya think?” Dakota raised an eyebrow, the three of them heading back to the time car.

Milo didn’t think he would ever think hearing the two of them fighting would sound good to him, but after the day he had, it was the best thing he could have asked for.


End file.
